Undercurrent (35 page)

He merely smiled. “You are still willing to be my bride then, ja?”

Without varying her gaze from his, she reached inside her cloak, under the apron top of her bodice, and unclasped the pin that had gotten her here in the first place. She placed it in his hand and curled his fingers around it. Tight. “Do me a favor. Next solstice, throw this back in the North Sea for me, would you?”

He cocked his head, raising one brow.

“
Let me guess. You don’t understand. But this, I think, you will.” She kissed him with such force he staggered backward a step.

When she pulled away, his laughter rang so loud that the men in front of them looked back. “Køm then, Cassie. I believe you have a wedding to prepare for.”

Ragnar tucked Cassie’s brooch between belt and tunic, then reached for her hand. The trust, the love, and especially the desire he read in her gaze increased his pace as he led her and the horse bearing Magnus over the harvested fields. The warm vitality in Cassie’s fingers squeezing his stood in sharp contrast to the limp hands of his big friend. He glanced at the early afternoon sun shining over the village.
Thank you, Jesu, that in the midst of trials, still you bless. Would that it be your will to heal Magnus.

They entered the gates to a swarm of activity. It seemed all the villagers buzzed about. Happy shrieks mingled with wails, equally loud and passionate. Compassion for these people entrusted to him weighed heavy. He released Cassie’s hand and the horse’s lead, then climbed several steps of the lookout’s ladder.

“
People of Rogaland, hear me.” He waited for as much silence as could be hoped for. “Each man fought well. Those who perished died with honor against an overwhelming foe. Even so, Jesu be praised, Torolf is defeated.”

Men banged their shields amidst victory cheers. Below him, Cassie covered her ears. He waited for the din to lessen. “This day we remember those who gave their lives. On the morrow’s eve, we will pay tribute to the warriors who are come home and celebrate with a wedding feast. Rogaland’s jarl will take a bride. Langr Lifa Rogaland!”

“
Langr Lifa Rogaland!”

Cassie grimaced from the crowd’s shout, though her palms remained planted against the sides of her head. Ragnar laughed and jumped down, pulling her into a tight embrace. Soft and warm, she melted against him. He could hold her forever and never tire of her feel.

“
Jarl Ragnar.”

Bryn’s voice broke the moment. Ragnar loosed his hold and turned.

“
There are matters of importance I would speak to you about.”

“
Jarl”—Oláf gained Bryn’s side—“I must ask you for—”

“
What of Magnus?” Kier cut in.

Several young lads tugged at his trews. “Can we see your sword?”

Cassie’s hand settled on his shoulder, her voice insistent in his ear. “Ragnar, what should I do?”

Temptation itched in his palms to cover his own ears. He was already weary, and the requests added as stone upon stone until fatigue crushed what little vigor he had left. “Enough.” He closed his eyes momentarily.

“
Cassie, ask Grunnhild. Boys, later. Kier, take Magnus to the longhouse with the other wounded and see that he holds priority. Oláf and Bryn, I will speak with you on the morrow.” He slipped from the suffocating circle and called over his shoulder, “Mayhap on the morrow.”

“
Where are you going?” The chorusing question followed him.

“
To sleep, lest I not stay awake for my own wedding party.” Laughter, catcalls and a few lewd comments didn’t stop his march toward his quarters, nor did the handful of others dogging his heels with more requests. He shut the door on all of them and soaked in the silence of his chamber—the chamber he would soon share with Cassie.

With a will, he ignored that thought and crossed the room to flop onto the downy mattress, so tired he did not bother to remove even his boots before his eyes closed. Each muscle slowly unwound, sinking him deeper into—

A sharp knock tensed him through. Frustrated, he rose and stomped to the door. If Oláf or Bryn dared show their face when he opened it, he’d flatten them before they drew another breath.

He yanked open the door and retribution died a quick death, replaced with confusion. “Signy?”

The proud, golden-haired vixen he remembered didn’t resemble the bent-shouldered woman bowing her head before him. “May I speak with you?”

He stepped aside, allowing her to pass, yet he stood in the open doorway. “Speak.”

She wrapped her arms tightly around herself and stared at the floor. “I must know Ragnar…Jarl…why?” Lifting red-rimmed eyes to his, she searched his face. “Why did Alarik take the blame for a crime he did not commit?”

“
So.” He studied her every bit as much as she eyed him in a fierce competition for truth. “You believe he was innocent as well, ja?”

“
I know he was innocent!”

The veracity in her tone left no room for argument. Obviously she knew much more than he did. But what? He shrugged and said nothing.

Unwrapping her arms, she began to pace. With each lap, he expected she might speak. She remained silent, treading endlessly.

His heart softened at her apparent agitation. “What troubles you, Signy?”

“
Alarik.” Her voice broke on his name, and her steps increased. “Alarik said nothing to you before he…”

Her tortured expression and ragged voice dredged up Ragnar’s memory of his final conversation with his cousin. “That very morn, Alarik and I spoke of Jesu’s great love.”

She stopped and shot him a look sharper than any blade he’d met in battle. “Jesu! Can you talk of nothing but Jesu!”

He shook his head and lowered his voice. “There is nothing else.”

She crumpled to her knees like a withered sail. Sobs shook her, and she covered her face with her hands.

Ragnar left his post at the door, taking care it stay open, and knelt beside her. He rested one hand lightly on her back as she wept. “I know naught of what passed between you and my cousin, but this one thing you must believe. He loved you, Signy, as none other.”

“
Think you I do not know that?” Her words muffled behind her palms, and she lowered them. When she looked up, he flinched at the agony contorting her face.

“
He died in my place, Ragnar. He died knowing I murdered his brother, that I carried his enemy’s child, and even in the knowing, he offered himself in my place.” Her voice rose. “What manner of man would do that?”

Understanding broke as the sun’s rays glinting on a fjord, healing some of the sorrow for his cousin. “I will tell you what manner. A follower of Jesu.”

“
How…” She drew in a broken breath. “How can I live with such pain?” Shrinking from his touch, she cast her face to the floor, her entire body consumed with weeping beyond consolation.

“
Calm yourself, Signy.” Though his rage at Torolf yet burned hot in his soul, the child in her womb could not be blamed. He reached toward her, but then pulled back, unsure how to proceed. “This cannot be good for the babe you carry. Please—”

“
I have none!” A fresh wave of sobs cut off her words.

There was naught he could do but wait.

And pray.

At last she caught her breath and rose to her knees. “Torolf found out about the night Rikka and I…he did not accept the child as his own. He cast me out and I lost…” She sniffled and wiped her nose with the back of one hand. “By his hand, I lost the babe.”

The true question was what manner of man Torolf had been, not Alarik. Nay, he would not dwell on such things now. Ragnar stood and offered her his hand. “You have suffered much, Signy. I pray you will find the same peace Alarik claimed, peace he would want you to have.”

She gripped his palm and pulled herself up. “I am beyond such comfort.”

“
Nay. As long as you draw breath, peace is within your reach. Seek it.”

She crossed to the door and paused, grasping the frame as if for support. “Thank you, Ragnar.” Her voice came barely above a whisper.

“
Thank Jesu. ’Tis his offer, not mine.”

As she padded away, he was hard pressed to discern whether her steps seemed lighter or heavier. Only time would tell the effects of his words…or Alarik’s actions.

He pushed shut the door and retraced his earlier route to the solace of bed. Sitting at the edge of the frame, he pulled off his boots before lying back. Though Signy’s revelations had drained him, a warm sense of the peace of which he’d spoken filled the void left behind, and he slept as he hadn’t since before the solstice.

THIRTY-FIVE

Beneath her ankle-length gown, Cassie’s legs trembled. This was a far cry from the wedding day she’d always imagined. She couldn’t have dreamed this scenario up if she’d sat down and tried. But in a strange way, it was better—and oh so right. The air in the jam-packed Great Hall was stifling enough, but standing next to Ragnar, resplendent in his wedding finery, required conscious effort to breathe.

His knee-length, royal blue tunic, trimmed at collar and wrists with woven silver braid, fit him well. Too well. It was far too easy to imagine the steely muscles that lay beneath. She’d never before seen him so immaculately groomed. Sneaking a sideways glance at him as the elder spoke what he must, she hid a smile of approval. Everything about Ragnar had been tidied, scrubbed and trimmed—except for the swath of hair covering half his face.

“
If none say nay, then speak your vows.” The village elder stepped closer and held out Ragnar’s sword.

“
Nay!”

Cassie’s heart stopped. Was this a part of the ceremony Grunnhild had forgotten to tell her about? She looked up at Ragnar.

His jaw tensed, and a corded muscle twitched along his neck. If he had fur, it would have been standing on end, and she expected a low growl would rumble through him at any moment. Whoever had objected maybe shouldn’t have done so with Ragnar’s sword at hand, especially with the dangerous glimmer in his eye.

“
Who speaks so?” asked the elder.

The crowd parted, and a familiar figure strode through.

“
I, Kier of Jorvik.”

Cassie gasped. Ragnar stood firm and silent.

The elder shuffled to face Kier. “What cause?”

“
For this.” Kier lifted both arms and reached behind his right shoulder. His movement set off a shushing wave of blades leaving their scabbards all around Great Hall.

Still Ragnar stood silent.

And Cassie’s heart refused to beat.

Over his head, Kier withdrew a magnificent sword, lamplight glinting from its polished blade. He offered it to the elder. “It would be my greatest honor if Jarl Ragnar and Cass-ee were joined with this, my brother’s sword.”

Cassie’s heart started up with a painful jolt. Alarik’s sword. She’d be wed with the weapon that had rarely left Alarik’s side, but with no Alarik to share in the joy of her wedding. Remembering his ever-ready smile, she bit her cheek to keep from crying.

The elder looked to Ragnar. “Will you have it?”

He reached for the sword with one hand. “’Tis no one’s greatest honor save for mine.”

A smile lit Kier’s dark features, and Cassie averted her gaze. That face could be Alarik’s except for the extra crinkles at the eyes and silver streaks in the hair. She bit harder.

Ragnar held the weapon point down in front of her. He rested his other hand, palm open, above the leather-wrapped hilt. Fancy braided cuffs, secured with silver wrist clasps, spoke of his high standing as jarl. The calloused fingers, worn from battle and toil, testified to the strength of character in the man.

Her man. A lump clogged her throat.

“
If it please you, Cassie, I offer my honor and my heart.”

She laid her hand on his and warmth traveled up her arm. “I join with my honor and my heart, for it pleases me well.”

As the elder wrapped a cord thrice around their wrists, Ragnar curled his fingers against hers and she squeezed back, then tore her eyes from their entwined hands to seek his face. She almost sank from the love pouring from his intense blue gaze.

“
I, Ragnar, Gerlaich’s son…” All other sounds receded except for his strong, resonant voice speaking directly to her heart. “In the sight of Jesu and those gathered here, take you, Cassie, as my own, my chosen one. I pledge my heart, my protection, and my life to none but you for as long as I draw breath.”

Licking her lips did nothing to alleviate her dry mouth. Everyone expected her to speak, but how? Impossible. She swayed on her feet, and darkness edged in from the periphery of her vision.

“
Breathe, little one.” Ragnar spoke for her ears alone. He smiled his encouragement, and though it be scarred and weathered, she realized just how much she loved that face.

“
I, Cassie Lars…” The memory of Alarik’s laughter when she’d told him her name barreled back with striking clarity—and just in time. She grinned. Alarik might be buried, but he’d never be gone.

“
I, Cassie, Lar’s dottir, in the sight of Jesu and those gathered here, take you, Ragnar, as my chosen one. I pledge my heart, my honor, and my life to none but you for as long as I draw breath.”